


love/longing

by Anonymous



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Masturbation, Pining, Post-Episode 65, Trans Male Character, Wet Dream, and not the kind zolf usually has
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zolf keeps having these stupid fucking dreams.





	love/longing

_(Soft hands running down his back, teeth scraping against his neck, something like a moan rumbling right next to his ear. “Hamid,” he whispers, “Hamid.” And Hamid is there, safe in his arms. And Hamid is there, warm and heavy. And Hamid is there, absolutely beautiful. Always beautiful.)_

Zolf keeps having these stupid fucking dreams.

_(“I love you,” in his ear. “I love you so much,” gasped into the junction of his shoulder and neck. Hamid kisses him, and he’s so warm, so soft against him, so handsome.)_

The dreams don’t seem to have any awareness of the fact that Zolf is trying not to think about Hamid. Zolf doesn’t _deserve_ to be thinking about Hamid, not after he left him in the middle of Prague. Hamid is better off without him. Zolf isn’t thinking about him.

_(Warm fingers against him, and he nearly swallows his own tongue. “I love you,” he manages, because Hamid needs to know, “you’re so good, you’re perfect and I love you—”)_

The worst thing is, if they were all sex dreams, Zolf could dismiss them. But no, there’s also incomprehensible moments of softness that Zolf won’t ever get to have.

_(Hamid's the kind of person who tries to be nice and then says the wrong thing because of what he really thinks, and he's so scared when Hamid finally strips him of his shirt. “Oh,” Hamid says, “is this what you were hiding?” His breath catches in his throat as he nods. Hamid takes his hand and murmurs, “I love you. You know I love you, darling. Come here.” Hamid sets his head against his chest, right where the scars are, and just holds him. He laughs, torn somewhere between wonder and scepticism, keeps holding Hamid, keeps him safe.)_

Zolf doesn’t have the godsdamn _right._

_(Hamid’s mouth is wet and warm against him. “Fuck,” he groans, “fuck,_ Hamid.” _Hamid hums and he jolts, everything narrowing down to Hamid’s tongue, his lips, his throat.)_

There’s something like shame in the back of Zolf’s throat when he wakes up hard, the last echoes of Dream-Hamid’s warmth dissipating. There’s something like shame choking him when Zolf takes himself in hand and thinks about anyone that isn’t the man he abandoned.


End file.
